


Fireworks

by bookishandi



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode: s02e11 Fear Her, F/M, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:19:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookishandi/pseuds/bookishandi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'd say something about fireworks, but it seems tawdry."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireworks

Each new burst screams to its peaks before the last fades to smoke. She pulls him to a low wall to watch the show, leans into his chest against the cool night air. As flashes of light illuminate their faces, twinkling in their eyes until the following deep bass thrums shake their bones back into the darkness, he wraps his arms—and coat with it—around her. Seated on the brick wall, they are nearly the same height, so he takes advantage and sets his chin in the hollow of her shoulder. She responds by snuggling toward him, rests her temple against his. They both jump when the next fireworks lights up the night sky; they had been too focused on each other to notice the pause in the show.

“Oh, but those are my favorite, though,” she laughs, miming the flash fading to sparkles with the fingers. “’s like two fireworks in one.”

“They’re called bouquet shells, or thousands,” he mutters without lifting his chin.  Turning his head slightly so that he’s whispering into her ear, he continues, “I should take you to Grahabhārata. Their Diwali fireworks are the best in the galaxy—bar none.”

She hums. “Dunno, though, this is pretty nice. You an’ me, here together. We saved the Olympics…”

“And the world,” he chuckles.

“And the world. And the Isolus, not to mention Chloe. It’s kinda like these fireworks are for us, but it’s our secret.”

“Well,” he lets the ells linger as he breathes in the herbal-flowery smell of her shampoo. “When you put it that way.” They quiet as another round of fireworks flash and crackle a patriotic red, white, and blue in the sky. She gasps in awe and excitement. He nuzzles into her neck in a sudden rush of affection; before he’s realizes what he’s done, he kisses the base of her neck. Nothing obscene, it’s just a peck, but she freezes. He is about to apologize when she wriggles around—careful not to break the cocoon of his coat—to face him.

“Did you just kiss me?” she asks. Another break in the fireworks means he can’t see her eyes to gauge just how offended she must be. He’s desperately tried to keep his feelings for her buried deep enough she won’t notice. He doesn’t deserve her, so young and full of life. He doesn’t want to be the old man taking advantage. But he lies through his teeth whenever he says they’re just friends.  She’s not just another companion, and…

“I asked you a question, Doctor,” Rose interrupts his panicking thoughts. He extracts one of his arms from her waist and pulls at his ear.

“Well, the thing is…” He grimaces. Her eyes are set with determination. “Yes. Sorry.” Her eyes instantly soften, and she laughs.

“Why are you sorry?” She asks. Warning klaxons sound in his head as he searches for an answer.

“I…,” he pulls at his ear again, harder than he should. He wonders if earlobes bruise. He stops when she says his name and raises her hand to his cheek. “Rose, we can’t…”

“Why?”

“Because?” He shrugs.

“Doctor,” she smiles at him, it’s brighter than the fireworks ever were. “That’s a rubbish reason.”

“Quite,” he laughs, but his racing hearts strangle it halfway in his chest, making it sound more like a gasp. She leans back and grabs his lapels, pulls him toward her, and before he knows what’s happened her lips are on his. He resists for a nanosecond, then gives in. Sod the coming storm.

He drops his hands to her waist and hauls her closer, as close as he can physically manage. Her hands travel to his neck, brush his cheeks, tangle in his hair. Their mouths open—he’s not sure who starts it, doesn’t care—and her delightful little tongue slides across his. He responds in kind and is grateful this body seems to be quite a natural kisser. Well, kissing Rose comes naturally. He was born from their first kiss, after all. Any lingering doubts evaporate as she rocks into him. It doesn’t matter how long they have in the future, he has her now, in his arms. This is where they’re meant to be.

Just as he comes to peace with the kiss and all it might mean, the next set of fireworks begins. Rose moves back with a little pop and a satisfied giggle. 

“I’d say something about fireworks, but it seems tawdry,” he smiles.

“Yeah,” she drops her head to his chest, her arms to wrap around his neck.

“What, that it’s tawdry?”

“No, the bit about fireworks,” she laughs. “All things considered, I’ll let a lame line work tonight.”

“Underdog wins the gold?” he smirks, a bit too proud of himself.

“Like, what is it, Guinea and shotput?” she answers, a bit too proud of herself.

“Quite,” he leans down and presses his lips to hers again. He’d said earlier it was a night for lost things being found. He’s not sure what he’d lost, but as they move together in the night under a shower of sparks falling through the night sky, he knows he’s been found.


End file.
